


The Bachelor Auction

by AndrastesKnickerweasel (AndrastesKnickerweasle), AndrastesKnickerweasle, little_abyss, stealyourshiny



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders is sexier than he realises, Bachelor Auction, Fenders, M/M, Telephone Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 13:58:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10698459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndrastesKnickerweasle/pseuds/AndrastesKnickerweasel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndrastesKnickerweasle/pseuds/AndrastesKnickerweasle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_abyss/pseuds/little_abyss, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stealyourshiny/pseuds/stealyourshiny
Summary: Hawke talks Anders into joining a bachelor auction for charity - Fenris doesn't like the idea of anyone but him taking home the scruffy mage.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the Fenders Telephone Game 2017! This chapter written by Andrastesknickerweasle!

Anders eyed the crowd nervously through a slit in the curtain. “I don’t know about this Hawke…”

“Oh come on!” He gave the apostate’s back a hearty pat. “It’s all in good fun, and it’s for a good cause!”

“My clinic is a good cause, homeless kittens are a good cause, this is…” he trailed off with an inarticulate wave of his hand at the assembled Hightown crowd.

“This is raising money for new armor and equipment for the Guard, for Aveline, our good friend-“

“Your good friend.” The mage grumbled under his breath.

Most people assumed the mighty Champion of Kirkwall’s most powerful weapon was his razor sharp twin daggers, but then again Anders was not most people. The mage felt his resolve crumble as Hawke’s bottom lip jutted from his wiry beard and trembled, his big mabari eyes glossing over with unshed tears. “But Anders, you promised.” 

Anders heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his freshly washed and neatly bushed hair. He’d worn it down in the spirit of the event, though he wasn’t certain why, as this whole affair was a joke. “Yes I know. Though I don’t know what good you think it will do the Guard to have me for sale in this meat market.” Who in their right mind would want me?

“I’m sure you’ll fetch a good price!” Hawke winked and beamed at him. “Just bat those pretty brown eyes and shake those hips and they’ll be clamoring for you!”

“Says the man who fetched 7 sovereigns before he’d even finished walking on stage.” The mage deadpanned at the smugly grinning rogue.

“Well we can’t all be Champion.” He said in a half proud half sheepish way that only Hawke could pull off. “You’ll do fine! Oh Maker- they’re calling you! Go!”

Without further ado, Anders found himself shoved past a red curtain to stand centerstage on the platform that had been erected outside the Viscount’s Keep for Kirkwall’s first (and hopefully annual) Bachelor Auction.

\---

Fenris scoffed for what had to have been the hundredth time as Hawke sauntered off stage, cat calls, thrown roses, and what looked suspiciously like a lace pair of underclothes following in his wake. “What a circus.” 

“Grouse all you like, but Hawke has just bought the entire company new shields with that circus.” Aveline said, a rare smile gracing her features. 

“And what must he do on this purchased ‘date’ to pay for them?” He replied through clenched teeth.

“Fenris, I told you, neither Hawke nor any of the other bachelors are obligated to do anything to make it worth the buyer’s while. They’ll probably just have a nice dinner and be on their way. Besides, most of the women ‘buying’ the ‘bachelors’ are their wives anyway. That or bored Hightown housewives with money to burn.” She rolled her eyes and gestured at a tittering gaggle of finely dressed women in absurdly ornate hats. “Either way, it’s all in good fun and it’s helping the Guard.”

“Does that mean you’re going to buy Donnic?” Merrill asked innocently, and entirely too loudly, given that Aveline’s affection for her fellow Guardsman had been told to them in confidence.

The Kirkwall Captain of the Guard glared daggers at the elven mage, though the effect was rather ruined by the flush quickly overtaking her entire face. “I’d like to see someone else try.” Aveline pronounced with firm conviction while clutching her coin purse, as though this were just another battle. One she was determined to win.

Fenris watched the exchange with bemusement. If Aveline not only condoned, but planned to participate in the event, it likely wasn’t that bad. Though he was still thankful they had had the good sense to not ask for his involvement. “If you all truly wish to help the Guard, why do you not simply donate the money? Why go through this…” he incredulously waved his hands toward the crowd, “this… spectacle?”

Varric’s warm chuckle floated up from somewhere around his left shoulder. “Because people like a spectacle. Ask for money and everybody tightens their purse strings, but sell them a gimmick and they’ll throw money at you.”

Fenris quirked an eyebrow at the dwarf. “If you think this is such a winning formula, why are you not up there hawking your wares?”

“You know I’m in a committed relationship!” He winked and patted Bianca lovingly.

The elf shook his head and looked to the stage once more as Seneschal Bran cleared his throat to begin the next introduction.

“Oh! Isn’t Anders up next?” Merrill whispered excitedly to Isabela.

“You know Kitten, I think he is.” Her full crimson lips curled in to a grin. 

Varric tsked faintly and frowned. “Going up after Hawke is going to be a tough act to follow.”

Fenris privately agreed. It wasn’t as though these people knew the mage, as he himself was only beginning to. The crowd of Hightown snobs wouldn’t have any way of knowing that the ragged looking apostate ran a clinic in Darktown, tirelessly healing the poor and infirm while asking nothing in return. These people had not heard him tell outlandish stories over a hand of Diamondback, nor passionately rant about his blighted cause with such conviction that even Fenris had to admire it, even when he did not always agree. At first glance the mage would appear lanky and scrawny to the untrained eye, ignorant of the musculature he would no doubt need to be able to wield a staff with such speed and precision. While he stood up on stage they would not be able to see the light glimmer in his amber eyes like warm honey, or see the way his distinguished nose crinkled ever so slightly when he laughed. 

The warrior loosened the tight grip his fists had clenched into without his notice. The crowd would only see a lowly Darktown resident and shoo him away, he had nothing to worry about. Not that he was worried. No. Certainly not.

“Don’t worry Varric, I brought a bit of coin.” Isabela lovingly caressed her very full coin purse. “If he doesn’t get any buyers then I’ll take him off their hands. Maybe take him off his feet too! Mmmm I wouldn’t mind getting a taste of that lightning trick again.”

A low growl rumbled from Fenris’ increasingly tight throat. “Aveline said there was to be no obligation to- to perform if purchased!”

She waved a hand at him, utterly unconcerned by the bristling warrior. “Of course there’s no obligation, but there’s no rule against him taking me up on a harmless suggestion.”

Aveline rolled her eyes, Fenris clenched his fists once more, and suddenly the curtain parted for Anders to stumble through, looking harassed, bewildered and… utterly gorgeous.

“Maker’s Hairy Nutsack, I’ll be damned.” Varric muttered with a laugh, his whole statement barely able to be heard over Merrill’s squeal of delight and Isabela’s ear splitting wolf whistle. 

Fenris’ heartbeat sped so quickly he felt faint, the blood rushing to stain his ears and cheeks crimson. Fasta vass, Anders cleaned up nicely. Gone were his tattered coat and bandages that seemed to scream ‘sewer apostate’. Instead his boots had been thoroughly cleaned and came halfway up his calves to rest over brand new flatteringly tight black trousers and a simple but well-tailored tunic of dark red with touches of gold embroidery. The colors brought out the auburn hews in his russet hair, which caught the rays of afternoon sun and made them dance in the cascade of his so rarely freed locks. There was a bit of a wave to his hair, no doubt caused by being so often confined by his half pony tail, and Fenris found himself hit with a powerful desire to run his fingers through it and let the wave crest and break over his hand to fall and catch on that alluring stubble on Anders’ strong jaw-

“5 silvers!”

“A sovereign!”

“2 sovereigns!”

Isabela laughed and took her hand off her purse with a hint of reluctance. “Well, guess the Guard won’t be needing charity from me after all.”

“You could always just donate it.” Aveline said with a faint huff.

The pirate quirked a sculpted brow. “Oh ho, and what gimmick are you going to sell me for my troubles?”

Fenris blocked out the women’s good natured bickering, too focused on the nightmare playing out before him. All the women of Hightown, as well as some of the men, seemed to be vying for a night with Anders. A pretty blush had risen to the mage’s cheeks at all the attention, just as a contentious storm cloud began brewing in Fenris’ mind. What if the person who bought this ‘date’ with Anders charmed him into another date? What if they charmed him into bed? Or worst of all, what if they charmed their way into his heart, all before Fenris had barely had a chance to realize that was something he had more than a passing interest in doing himself? Of course there’s no obligation, but there’s no rule against him taking me up on a harmless suggestion.

The words were out of Fenris’ mouth before he realized he’d said them. “10 sovereigns!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by little_abyss!

For an instant, the room was stunned silent. Anders’ breath caught in his lungs - surely he’d heard that wrong? Ten sovereigns? Who had that kind of money, who would be foolish enough to waste it on him? Someone who expects something more than a quick kiss on the cheek at the end of the night, he thought, and frowned, feeling his cheeks grow even warmer under the brilliant glow of the lamps. 

Just at that moment, Seneschal Bran laughed and pounded his gavel, to ask, “Going once?”

The room remained quiet, but now there was a mutter and a flurry of delighted laughter at one of the tables in the middle. And damn the lamplight in his eyes, because he couldn’t see anything - didn’t know the first detail about the person who had purchased the pleasure of his company, paid far more than it was worth, really.

Anders blinked, bit his lip and fought the overpowering urge to shield his eyes to peer out into the crowd as Seneshal Bran once again raised his voice, “Going twice?”

Still, the bidder had no competition. After a heartbeat which felt like an aeon under the bright lamp light, the Seneshal banged his gavel on the dias and grinned. “Sold then! Would the gentleman at table three please come to the stage door? And a round of applause please, ladies and gentlemen! This is all for charity and…”

The words faded into an incessant buzz in Anders’ ear. With alarm, he felt a hand on his arm and jumped - but it was only one of the stage hands, ushering him offstage. 

“Cheer up,” she murmured to him happily, “That was more than the Champion got!”

“Yes,” Anders sighed, trying to smile. But the fact of it is, he felt - well, horrible about all this. Justice writhed within him, matching his discomfort, flashing details about the Guard and their exposure of apostates to the Templars. Does that make me complicit? he wonderd, feeling even more appalled, sick almost, and then yelped in shock when a hand landed firmly on his shoulder.

Hawke stood there, grinning. His smirk quailed slightly under Anders’ obvious fright, and Hawke removed his hand. “Sorry,” he said, sounding contrite. “I just… just wanted to say well done, that’s all. See? It wasn’t so painful, was I..?”

“No,” Anders told him, rather icily. “Not painful. Degrading maybe, shameful, I mean, Maker, Hawke, this…” Anders took a deep breath, held it, and tried once more to smile. It clearly didn't turn out very well, given the look on Hawke’s face, so Anders released the breath he was holding and shook his head. “Look. It just… this sort of thing… it isn’t my thing.”

“It’s for a…” Hawke began, and Anders rolled his eyes. 

“A good cause. Yes. Well. Maybe if the Guard need charity, they could look to the Chantry next time.” He felt a little bad - Hawke was only trying to help, after all - and then a thought occurred to him. “Why didn’t you get Fenris up here?”

“Fenris?” Hawke gaped, then laughed in astonishment. “Um… you know his history, right?”

“Oh. Right.” Anders looks at the floor briefly, feeling more than a little chagrined. Of course Fenris would have baulked at this. No matter how good the intention, it looked a lot like slavery. 

Anders shifted, suddenly uncomfortable for a whole new reason - would Fenris think less of him because of his participation in this event? How could he? he asked himself, mouth twisting in annoyance, He already thinks you’re…

What though? It was true, their relationship had gotten off to a rough start. But there was… something else there now. Something more. Maybe. Anders was too confused by his own emotions to really process it; how on earth did one express something like what he felt? How was he supposed to put it into words? I’m annoyed at myself for belittling your past experience, and I think you’re really beautiful but I wish you’d be nicer in spite of all the awful things mages have put you through and maybe we have more in common than I’d initially thought but I’m pretty sure you still hate me and sometimes I feel like that about you, but I’m also sure that I’ve seen you looking at me sort of softly lately and I want that but I’m afraid of it too? No.

Anders shook his head reluctantly and looked at Hawke, whose eyes widened as he gazed at something just behind Anders. 

“Speak of the devil.” He grinned at Anders, and gestured - Anders turned to see Fenris, his arms folded over his chest and his eyes downcast, being led toward them by a bright eyed young human woman.

“Oh, here you are!” the woman trilled, and gestured at Fenris, who didn't raise his eyes.“We like to get everyone introduced, and then you can make your arrangements yourselves with whatever suits you best. Messere Finriss, this is…”

“It’s pronounced Fenris,” Anders corrected her without thinking, staring at the elf. “What are you doing here?” He watched Fenris’ face, thinks he detected an arch of an eyebrow, and then Hawke guffawed loudly beside him. 

“Oh, oh Maker. Maker! Fenris… you didn’t! You couldn’t resist it!” He looked at the shocked expression on Anders face and laughed again, gasping out, “You can’t guess? Why else might he be here? Ooh, Maker, wait ‘til I tell Isabela…”

“You do not have to tell Isabela,” Fenris muttered grimly. “She was seated next to me. She could barely contain her laughter as well.”

“But… hang on, I don’t…” Anders blinked in confusion and looked at the young woman, who also looked utterly at sea. Then suddenly it dawned on him, and he shook his head. “You? You were the one that paid..? I…” Anger flared within him and he scowled at Fenris. “This is a joke, isn’t it. Well, the joke’s on you - I’m going to go through with this stupid date, so that you’ll have to pay up no matter what. I’ll come and sit for an hour on your stupid doorstep if you won’t see me in person. It’s for a good cause, after all.” He threw an annoyed glance at Hawke, who at least had the decency to shut up for a moment, and tried to cover his idiotic grin with a hand. 

Anders stared at Fenris, who looked abashed for a moment, then shook his head silently. “Well?” Anders asked. “What have you got to say for yourself?”

Fenris took a deep breath and raised his eyes to the mage. What did you expect, he asked himself in disgust, him to blurt out that he feels the same? You scarcely know what you feel yourself. “Anders,” he said quietly, “I wanted to… otherwise, Isabela said… and…”

He sighed harshly and rubbed the back of his neck, then growled, “I was doing you a favour. Don’t be an idiot. You…”

“Oh, you were doing me a favour, where you?” Anders hissed, even as Fenris saw Hawke roll his eyes theatrically. “More like you were sucking up to Aveline! We all know she keeps the Guard off your case, spreading those ridiculous rumours of the haunted mansion, and…”

“Here’s an idea,” Hawke interrupted, hands out in a placating gesture as he glanced at the young woman, who was looking from one to the other of them as if they had each sprouted an extra head. “Why don’t you two use this opportunity to figure your shit out? It’s obvious to me that you fancy each other…”

Fenris stared, appalled, at Hawke before looking at Anders, who scoffed and rolled his eyes. But… was that a blush he saw creeping up Anders’ neck? And now, the mage won’t look at him; instead, he fiddled with the hem of his almost-certainly-borrowed tunic. Fenris frowned, puzzled as Hawke laughed. 

“Well it is,” he said. “So how about you get it over and done with? You can go use my place if you want neutral territory; there’s not so many prying eyes as the Hanged Man, plus you won’t have to put up with Isabela prowling around leering at you every five seconds. Or Varric. Or me.” Hawke grinned and raised his eyebrows at Fenris, who huffed. 

There was silence for a moment, then he said, “It is acceptable to me, if it is acceptable to Anders.”

Anders made a dry clicking noise in his throat, and scowled at the wall. He folded his arms over his chest, then looked at the floor, and for a moment, Fenris thought he would refuse. So much for all your big talk about going through with it anyway, he thought, feeling annoyed - at this stupid event, at Hawke for his smug expression, at Isabela for forcing his hand - at everything, strangely enough, except Anders himself.

He was just trying to do a favour for Hawke, he considered, it was doubtful he would have volunteered. He swallows at that, and shifted uncomfortably, then lifted his chin as he resolved to simply get through this the best he could.

Finally, once the silence has grown almost insurmountable, Anders nodded. “Fine,” he said gruffly, and looked at Fenris. “Pay up then. We’ll go to Hawke’s. But if this is some stupid idea of yours to get me alone…”

Fenris took a deep breath. Is the situation really so hopeless? Perhaps it is - perhaps this strange yearning which had nestled in his chest for what seemed like years was just that; too strange, too long nurtured to be real, to ever have a hope of surviving. He exhaled and shook his head. “No. Though this was undoubtedly a stupid idea, there was no ill intent.” Fenris raised an eyebrow and told Anders truthfully, “I do not wish you harm, Anders.”

For a moment, they stared at each other, before Anders swallowed and dropped his gaze once more. Fenris blinked rapidly there in the half-light of backstage, wondering at the look in Anders’ eyes. Then the stagehand cleared her throat, and he remembered his purpose. 

“Fine,” he told her as he pressed the coins into her hand, feeling rather sordid. 

She grinned at him, and reminded him in a sunny tone of voice, “It’s for a…”

“Good cause,” Fenris finished, and sighed as he looked at Anders. “Come then. Let us go.”

Anders only nodded, and followed Fenris out into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by stealyourshiny!

The walk to Hawke’s estate was thankfully short, though the air was tense between them. Bodhan opened the door for them with a frown, but let them inside. Anders thought he was probably used to Hawke’s strange friends coming in at all hours whether Hawke is there or not. He showed them into the library where they were welcome to the decanter of whatever Hawke had on hand. 

Anders sat down in one of the chairs near the fireplace, deflating. The night had been very eventful and it was still hard to process it all. Fenris had paid for an evening with him. The fact that he’d let Hawke talk him into this in the first place was embarrassing enough. That Fenris had bid so much on him… It was ridiculous. He had been at the table with Isabela, laughing the whole time.

“I asked Bodhan to bring us some tea, unless you’d like something else?”

He looked up at Fenris, who had moved to the other chair, and tried to relax again. His hands had balled up as he’d started thinking about the whole thing once more. “No, tea is fine,” Anders finally replied, clearing his throat a little and moving his gaze away from the elf. “Thank you.”

“Hawke has brandy in his decanter, but I know your de-... your _spirit_ , does not like you drinking.”

Fenris tapped his fingers on the back of the chair, trying to make himself sit down across from the mage. He was nervous and knowing that Anders was, at the least, annoyed with him for the whole situation didn’t help his confidence. He tightened his grip on the chair and focused on the mage instead. He looked handsome in the firelight. The tunic he’d borrowed was well cut for him, and the colour looked nice with his complexion and hair. He sighed to himself and ran a hand through his hair.

“You might as well sit down, Fenris.”

Anders watched the elf fidget a little more before he finally settled into the chair. He forced himself to smile at Fenris, trying not to notice how nice the elf looked in the clothes he’d worn to the auction. “So, I don’t know anything about dates, but I understand that I am supposed to make sure you have a nice evening. I could do some parlour tricks? Or would you prefer me to sit primly and let you wax poetic about how wonderful the Guard are and how it’s all for charity?”

Across from him, the elf sighed and rubbed his face. “No, Anders. I don’t- I… I don’t know why we let Hawke and Isabela talk us both into this.”

The mage bit his lip and looked at the floor, his fingers fussing with the hem of his tunic again. “You’re right. I’m sorry… This… I shouldn’t blame you for Hawke convincing me to do that stupid thing.”

Fenris only nodded, keeping his eyes on the mage’s hands. His long fingers continually twisting and then smoothing the cloth on his lap. He could feel a slight flush creep up the back of his neck as he thought about what Hawke had said earlier, about them fancying each other.

“Hawke does talk often about things he generally knows nothing about,” Fenris agreed, glancing up to catch Anders’ gaze with a small smile. The mage snorted, his own lips curling up at the corners.

“You can say that again. I mean, he bullshits his way through almost everything. It’s a wonder he hasn’t gotten himself skewered.”

“Yes,” Fenris agreed, relaxing a little at the mage’s smile. “Like that nonsense he was saying earlier about us.”

Anders’ own neck began to flush then. He was glad for the dim room, hoping Fenris wouldn’t notice. “Yes, of course. About us fancying each other? Ridiculous, right?” He forced a small laugh, that sounded like a bark in his own ears and winced.

“Yes. Ridiculous.” Fenris tried to sound dismissive, but found himself watching the mage out of the corner of his eye as he continued. “I think it’s just wishful. Wanting us to stop arguing. Perhaps it’s a new tactic of theirs?”

Nodding, Anders glanced at the elf, noticing that he was being watched. “Though it’s not… I mean… Not a totally… _awful_ idea. I can admit that you are… you know... “ He coughed, feeling the flush move up to his ears. “Handsome, after all.”

Fenris’ eyes widened slightly and he looked straight at the mage, who was studying his hands and definitely pink around the edges. “You are not… unpleasing to look at either,” he said carefully. Fenris took a deep breath then, deciding that it was now or never. “I find… I find that I do respect you a great deal.”

Fenris cleared his throat and saw the mage staring, open mouthed at him, before barreling on. “You are more kind and gentle than other mages I have had experience with. You have an immense will. Your control over your dem-... Your spirit… is admirable.”

There it was. The elf didn’t still hate him. He felt like a fish, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of something to say, something as eloquent as what Fenris had said.

“I do fancy you!” he blurted out.

Fenris blinked at him, and he buried his face in his hands. “Maker, that’s… now how I wanted to say that. I wanted to say something about how amazing you are, and your strength in the face of adversity and how I’m sorry about all the shit I’ve said and-”

Anders’ trailed off, peeking over his fingers as he realised that he could hear Fenris chuckling. The sound was deep and wonderful and he wanted to listen to it forever. Soon, Fenris was covering his mouth, trying to control the laughter and failing miserably. Anders could feel himself starting to snicker too. 

When they’d gotten ahold of themselves, Fenris stood and walked over to Anders, kneeling down so they were eye-level. His mouth was still squirming as he tried to keep control of himself, but his eyes were soft and full of mirth. “Anders. May I kiss you?”

The mage blinked rapidly. “Kiss me? I mean, yes, of course, but you want to kiss me? Does that mean that you fa-”

“Yes,” Fenris replied and pressed his lips to Anders’.


End file.
